The Last Gryffindor (Sirius Black)

Chapter XXXIV: The End of the Beginning

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Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
—WINSTON CHURCHILL

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Aeliana felt the rush of wind swirling around her, as though she was in the eye of a tornado. Voldemort finally caught up.

Took him long enough.

"Looks like the whole gang's together today," Lia noted evenly, opening her eyes. "What's the occasion?"

She let my her trace the arc of darkly clad people before her, in stark contrast to her own plain ivory robes. Without meaning to, she caught Severus's eye a few places down from Lord Voldemort. She allowed herself the comfort of holding his gaze for only a second before passing over.

He looked fine, all things considered, but he'd always had one mean poker face, both in that he was adept at guarding his emotions and that his neutral expression just looked mean in general. Perhaps it was because she grew to know him so well that she could note the slight  stress lines crisscrossing across his sallow face, his skin too tight, stretched unnaturally thin. He stood unnaturally still, even for him, as though mentally attempting to detach himself from what they all knew was surely about to happen.

Not all the Death Eaters, to Lia's immense shock, seemed giddy at the thought of her untimely demise. Her old Hogwarts "friends" in particular looked grim. Regulus, of course, was in no position to to be there, and Barty was still a Hogwarts student, but Alecto and Amycus surprised her. In the past, she had little doubt that they'd kill her at a moment's notice, yet their expressions showed they now found little pleasure in the fact, which, for them, said a great deal.

"My Lord, please let me deal with this filthy blood traitor myself," Bellatrix implored from Voldemort's right, her wand already aimed directly at Lia's chest.

No! Not yet! They needed to come in closer...

Luckily, Voldemort held a single pale hand up, silencing her.

"Not yet, Bella. Not yet." His crimson eyes trailed from Lia's head to the tip of her dragon-hide boots and back again, sending shivers cascading down her spine. "I'll do the honor myself. She was one of us, after all. I'll show her what happens to traitors."

Lia almost laughed at the absurdity of that statement.

"Traitor, hm? If I was never on your side in the first place, does it still count as treachery to turn on you?" she mused. "Though, despite how much I may despise you, I'm a lot more like you than I'd care to admit." She shook her head and pushed off the pillar she had been leaning against in wait. "I, too, am overcome by fear, and let it dictate my decisions. I fear what is to come, and, like you, I fear death. I'm not mature enough, I suppose, to embrace death alone."

But I am willing to embrace my brother, and my father and mother, and everyone else you murdered, she thought. I'm not alone.

"And yet you still dared to oppose me," Voldemort mused, running a long finger down the length of his wand. "And in such an open manner, too. We could have done great things together, Aeliana." His tone held an air of great sorrow, but she knew better than to believe a single word spun from that poisonous, silver tongue. "Great things."